19. Snowbound
Snowbound
Cassie
Ithrew myself into teaching with the focus I usually reserved for solving crossword puzzles or organizing the perfect spice rack.
Two days after Dad left, I’d been thinking about that conversation with Levi on his porch. I took slightly different routes around town and politely declined Janet’s dinner invitations because I wasn’t quite ready for her well-meaning but persistent questions about my “plans.”
The ache in my chest was like trying to remember something important but having the words dance just out of reach.
“Are you okay, Miss Grant,” Tyler observed how distracted I’d been during our morning biology lesson, his fifteen-year-old face wearing concern.
I smiled, genuinely. “Yep, just lost in thought. Just working through some things in my head.”
He nodded sagely. The rest of the class hummed in agreement, having done the same thing before, then returned their eyes to their essays.
Tyler's was titled, How Mitosis Resembles My Mom's Weekly Meal Prep Process.
The kid had a point—sometimes, too many options made everything more complicated than it needed to be.
I stood at a crossroads with multiple appealing paths stretching in different directions.
My mind buzzed with possibilities while my stomach did tiny nervous flips.
Dad’s visit had been a reminder that life was full of choices, and sometimes my brain couldn’t quite keep up with all of them.
And this was the single biggest decision of my life.
“You’re capable of so much more than you realize,” he’d said the morning before he left, sitting at my kitchen table with coffee and parental pride that made my heart warm even when his words made me squirm.
“I love seeing you happy here, Cassie-girl, but I also want to make sure you’re not settling when you could be soaring. ”
“What if I enjoy where I am?” I’d asked, genuinely curious about his perspective.
“Then that’s wonderful. But make sure it’s a choice you’re making from confidence, not comfort. And not because there’s a chance this thing between you and Levi will work out. Your mom and I, well…what we had was special. I want that for you someday, but for now…”
The distinction had been sticking with me for days. A question worth considering. Was I staying in Everwood because it was right, or because it was safe? And was there really such a clear line between the two?
“Miss Grant?” Lily Chen's voice pulled me back to the present, where twenty-three sophomores were waiting for guidance on their ecosystem observation reports. “Should we focus more on what the organisms look like or how they behave?”
“Both,” I answered, walking over to point at the examples on the board. “Structure and behavior together tell us how something survives in its environment.”
As my students dove back into their work, I found myself looking out of the classroom window at the gray sky that had been promising snow all morning.
There was something cozy about the anticipation of a storm—the way it made you grateful for warm spaces and good company.
It reminded me of that night when the cottage tree fell, when what could have been a disaster had somehow turned into one of the most perfect evenings of my life.
The memory made me smile instead of making my chest tight. That was progress.
The lunch bell rang, and my students packed up their essays with the efficient energy of teenagers who’d mastered the art of quick transitions. They chattered about snow day possibilities and whether the cafeteria’s mystery meat was actually edible today.
“Remember,” I called after them, “we're discussing animal adaptations tomorrow, so think about what drives organisms to develop the adaptive traits they have!”
This earned me a few thoughtful nods and one student calling back, “Hunger drives me to adapt to cafeteria food!”
The faculty lunchroom was mostly empty when I arrived with my lunch—a perfectly respectable turkey sandwich and the thermos of soup that had been my faithful companion all week. I was settling into my usual corner spot when Uma Blackhorse appeared beside me with her characteristic silent grace.
Uma was Everwood High’s head lunch lady, a woman who seemed to have been born knowing exactly how much wisdom could be packed into a dinner roll and dispensed with a smile.
She had silver-streaked braids, eyes that missed nothing, and a reputation for making even the pickiest teenagers clean their plates through some combination of excellent cooking and gentle encouragement.
“You look thoughtful today,” she said, settling across from me with a plate of today’s special—something that looked appetizing and smelled even better.
“Seems to be the consensus.”
She considered this while adding hot sauce to her chili with the precision of a scientist. “Thinking can be good. Are you thinking your way toward something or away from it?”
“I’m not sure I know the difference.”
“Thinking toward something feels productive—lots of possibilities, a little bit exciting, a little scary, makes you want to roll up your sleeves. Thinking away from something feels exhausting.”
I took a bite of my sandwich, mulling this over. “What if it’s both?”
“Then you’re probably right where you need to be.
” Uma tried her chili and nodded approvingly.
“Sometimes the best decisions come from sitting with uncertainty until it turns into clarity all by itself. Your dad’s visit stirred things up?
” she asked, because in a town the size of Everwood, gossip traveled fast and with considerably more accuracy than the news.
“A little. In a good way, mostly. He just wants me to make sure I’m choosing my life instead of just letting it happen to me.”
“Smart man. And are you?”
I paused, realizing that this was exactly the right question. “I think so. But it’s hard to tell sometimes.”
Uma broke open a dinner roll and offered me half. “You know what I’ve learned in forty years of feeding teenagers? Most of the time, people already know what they want. They just need permission to want it.”
“Permission from who?”
“From themselves, usually. Sometimes from people they love.” She studied me with those knowing eyes. “What would you choose if you knew for sure that everyone who matters would support whatever you decided?”
The question settled into my chest. The answer came immediately, without hesitation or second-guessing.
I’d choose this—teaching these kids, being part of this community, building something real and meaningful in a place that had become home.
I’d choose Levi and the way he made ordinary moments sparkle, the way he looked at me like I was exactly who he’d been hoping to find.
I’d choose to stay.
“I think,” I said slowly, “I might already know what I want.”
Uma’s smile was like watching the sun come out after days of clouds. “Then the only question left is whether you’re brave enough to go for it.”
We sat in comfortable silence for a while, eating our lunches while the cafeteria outside hummed with the pleasant chaos of high school midday. Through the windows, I could see snow beginning to fall—fat, lazy flakes that drifted down and made the world look cozy and inviting.
“Storm’s coming,” Uma observed, following my gaze.
“Perfect day for it,” I said, and realized I meant it.
“Good attitude. Weather’s natural, just dress warm and enjoy the beauty.”
After she left, I stayed in the faculty room longer than usual, grading papers before my next class and watching the snow fall with increasing enthusiasm outside the windows.
The flakes were getting bigger and more determined, and the wind was starting to give them direction.
It looked as though we were in for another real storm.
My shoulders relaxed, and I found myself grinning at the swirling snow. There was something about snow days that made everything seem full of possibility—the normal rules were temporarily suspended, and anything could happen.
By the time the final bell rang, it was clear we were looking at another significant storm. It would undoubtedly close a few roads and cancel plans, allowing us to slow down and pay attention to what really mattered.
“Bus dismissal only,” Kathy announced over the intercom. “All after-school activities are canceled. Teachers, please ensure all students get on their buses safely. And drive carefully—this one’s going to be another beauty.”
The next twenty minutes were a cheerful frenzy of snow boots and excited chatter, last-minute locker raids, and the organized energy of getting students safely onto buses before the weather got serious.
I stood at the main entrance with the other teachers, checking off names and listening to students make grand plans for sledding and skiing.
“You okay driving home?” Kathy asked as the last bus pulled away, its taillights already softened by the swirling snow. “I can always call Levi to come get you.”
I couldn’t help smiling. Any chance to get us together? But I wouldn’t pull him away from whatever storm preparations he had on his plate. “Should be fine. It’s not that far.”
“Call when you get home,” she said, but her tone was more motherly than worried. “And enjoy the enforced hibernation. Sometimes the universe gives us exactly what we need.”
The drive to my apartment took twice as long as usual. I drove slowly, humming along to the radio and watching the familiar streets transform under their white blanket. The truck’s heater kept me toasty, and I could already picture my cozy apartment waiting at the end of the journey.
But instead of heading straight home, I found myself pulling into the parking lot of the Everwood Inn. My truck crunched through the fresh snow, and I could see warm light glowing in the windows.
Janet appeared at the door before I’d even knocked, her face breaking into a surprised smile.
“Cassie! What are you doing out in this weather?”
“Probably being foolish,” I admitted, stomping snow off my boots. “But I was hoping we could talk.”